


Honeyed Breaths

by sanguiniel



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguiniel/pseuds/sanguiniel
Summary: The night is far from over when Geralt pulls Jaskier into an empty hall during a break to rest his voice. Good Gods is he fed up this early?He is, but not how Jaskier would have expected.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 286





	Honeyed Breaths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sandpapersnowman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/gifts).



> 'WHEN will jaskier get the hot sloppy makeouts he DESERVES : /' - sandpapersnowman
> 
> and now he has! look what youve brought into existence !

Geralt gets a firm grip on him, both hands fisted in Jaskier's expensive doublet. The danger his shirt is in crosses Jaskiers mind for only a second, before considering his clothes worth is no longer a consideration at all as Geralt hauls him into place to be properly kissed.

Gods but he is a broad man. Jaskier is well acquainted with the idea of how large Geralt is in theory but it's significantly different in practice, crowded against the wall by his bulk. Its confining in the best way imaginable. There's something romantic there, about a loving confinement, that Jaskier could use in a song if he had the brain right now to focus on lyrics.

One of Geralt's hands rises to grip him by the back of the neck, as the other falls and encourages Jaskier's thigh higher. Jaskier doesn't need much encouragement to half-climb the Witcher, leg curling against his waist to bring them in closer contact. He can feel the smile against his mouth when Geralt grins in response to his eagerness; let him laugh, like it's not his own fault Jaskier's so desperate. They could've been doing this for ages. Jaskier was up for it nearly the moment he first laid eyes on the man.

The breadth of the Witcher splays Jaskier's thighs wider than any man's had them before. He can feel the creak in his hips, a tingling warning of the pleasant soreness he'll be feeling on the morrow. Geralt leaving his marks, both seen and unseen. They couldn't be anything visible, that would be indecent and bad for business besides, but Jaskier wondered if he wouldn't be able to convince Geralt's mouth lower to leave some bruises just for the two of them nonetheless.

His tongue strokes in a little messily, less control than Jaskier would have expected from Geralt. But oh, the thought of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf becoming so enflamed over little old Jaskier is one that leaves him breathless and moaning much too loudly into Geralt's mouth in return. If anyone was passing near at that moment, they'd be able to hear and know exactly what sort of business was going on round the corner. Exactly what kind of mess Geralt was turning him into. 

"This could be your business you know, forget slaying monsters. Not that I'm inclined to advocate for you turning to whoring, but my God Geralt," Jaskier has to break away to breathe, and then immediately wastes the opportunity on speaking instead.

"You're speaking nonsense," Geralt says, brushing another kiss into the corner of Jaskier's mouth with no respect for how it makes Jaskier want to kiss him a thousand times more even if it means he'll die a breathless death. 

"I've had many, many dreams about this kind of thing, forgive me if I'm left a bit dazed." As he says this, Jaskier can feel Geralt's hand sliding over his thigh, palming over the muscle hidden underneath brocade and embroidery. Why couldn't Geralt have a mutation to whisk them away somewhere with less clothes right now?

"You should tell me about those dreams. But later." Geralt caught Jaskier's lips again, tongue finding its way home like nothing at all. He tastes like bitter potion and the too-weak wine from the feast. Jaskier can't get enough of him. 

Because he's a spiteful ass and possibly a mindreader, that is exactly when Geralt pulls away entirely. The space between them leaves Jaskier cold where Geralt had been close and warm. 

"We need to get back, if only to say our goodbyes. And you already look.. indecent. More than usual," Geralt says, not without a hint of humor and much approving appraisal in the glance he rakes down Jaskier's form.

He's right. Beyond the tell-tale color kissed into both their mouths, Jaskier's hair is mussed from being against the wall as he was, and of course somewhere along the way his doublet has come undone. All the better to get Geralt's hands on him, really, but since that wasn't in the cards (for now) he should probably see about fixing it. Gods willing, Geralt's mutant grip won't have left any marks or tears.

The idea of Geralt ripping his clothes in a fit of passion is only a half tempting fantasy. 

"You might be right. But ah, after our goodbyes, then…" Jaskier trailed off, leaving Geralt to fill in the blanks.

His teeth bare in a beautiful, wicked smile. "Like I said. Then we'll see what you have to say about what you've been dreaming."

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in ~2 hours and has zero plot. youre all welcome!


End file.
